I’ve always been placed in the middle, regardless of the cost or burden, and my parents have sacrificed everything for me with a smile on their faces.

My life began at the age of five. Everything prior is comparable to my dreams; there are undeniable truths, but I cannot ascertain whether they are rooted in reality. Childhood memories of Korea are a hazy blur yet I clearly remember my excitement when news arrived: we’d finally be reuniting with my father in “the land of opportunities,” “the home of the brave,” the United States of America. Despite my young age, I knew life had changed drastically from the moment I entered our new apartment. I savored every trivial detail, like the view of the mountains outside my window, the clean smell of my unfamiliar father, and even the feel of the soft carpet. And I still remember the dreamlike quality captured in each novel experience until it too was just another distant memory.